Alphabet Watanukis
by aevenallen
Summary: Every Watanuki has their own Doumeki. 26 Watanukis and Doumekis in different worlds. Interested?
1. Chapter 1: Painter Watanuki

Title: Alphabet Watanukis

Type: Painter Watanuki

Characters: Watanuki Kimihiro, Doumeki Shizuka, Kinimoto Sakura, Ichihara Yuuko, Clow Reed

Summary: Watanuki constantly thinks of his past. Will Doumeki be able to help him see past through his pain and live a better future?

* * *

It was two in the morning when the phone rang. It was frustrating. Doumeki barely even had time to sleep after reading through his notes for his exams tomorrow. He let out a grunt when the phone continued ringing. A few seconds later, the ringing stopped. He let out an exhale and was rolling over to his side when the phone rang again. He figured it must be important, for it to be ringing at this time. Maybe it was a professor who had taken a liking on him, deciding on a spontaneous homework before the exams. Or perhaps his mother forgetting that she's in a different time zone again. Or maybe Watanuki has a bout of insomnia attack again. Watanuki.

With him in mind, Doumeki quickly sat up and reached the phone on top of his bedside table before the ringing ends. "Hn."

"Doumeki-kun?"

It was Watanuki's adoptive sister, Sakura. If she was calling and not Watanuki…

"What happened?"

There was a sniff from the other end of the line which made his heart pound a little heavily. "Kimi-niichan, he's…"

"I'll be there in five."

xxx

The room was thrashed. Brushes and canvasses were thrown broken to the side. Globs of paint smeared the walls, as well as on furniture. There were even some wet ones on the corners of the piano. So this was the reason why he's been seeing Yuuko change the furnitures and wallpapers quite often.

He felt Sakura stand beside him, sniffing and wiping her tears off her cheeks. "Kimi-niichan has been at it for several hours already. Touya-niichan tried to stop him before but he's never succeeded so we barely try anymore." He glanced at her then back to the crumpled body of Watanuki inside his room. His hand fisting his hair. He noticed Clow has his arms around Yuuko in a corner, a grim look on both their faces.

He nodded briefly at them before walking towards Watanuki. Shades of blue were on the crumpled papers littered on the floor beside the lean boy. He knew that the boy felt his presence and was blatantly ignoring him, his focus on the canvas in front of him. He sat next to him and observed Watanuki. The boy continued painting on the canvas, became more frustrated and threw it to the wall, following the other garbage on that area.

"What's the matter?"

Although he did not make any movement, Doumeki could feel Watanuki prickle. The latter grabbed another piece of paper and brushed the same shade of blue on it. He showed it to Doumeki, who grabbed it in return. Inspecting his work carefully, he returned the paper to the other boy before replying. "Cerulean."

Watanuki looked at him in disbelief before eagerly grabbing another sheet of paper and painted a lighter shade of green.

"Lime."

This went on for about half an hour, Doumeki naming each color Watanuki presented him. Watanuki's work were not even considered artworks, according to the smaller boy so he humored him as long as he was not throwing things around. That was when Watanuki painted another shade of blue on the paper. Doumeki's brow raised before answering, "your eyes."

Watanuki froze, his eyes widening slightly, and stared at the boy sitting beside him, his cheeks reddening slightly. "S-shut up. What are you doing here anyway?"

Doumeki shrugged and yawned. He was glad the tense set on Watanuki's shoulders were gone. Shifting slightly, he leaned on Watanuki's back, ignoring his loud 'oi'. He was about to close his eyes when he felt Watanuki paint something on paper. He figured he'll be asking for another name for the color he'd been working on so he patiently waited.

Watanuki tch-ed, a blush adorning his face that he was glad Doumeki couldn't see. Having second thoughts, he crumpled the paper before straightening it out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he crumpled the paper again and tossed it back to Doumeki.

Doumeki wondered why it took a few seconds to ask for a shade of color when he picked up the paper and straightened it out. He let out a confused 'huh' and answered, "gold." If Doumeki had turned at that exact moment, he would have seen the tips of Watanuki's ears turn red. "I was going to say your eyes, idiot."

xxx

Doumeki knew Watanuki was a talented person but he never did like telling him about it. He knew he would never live it down and Watanuki was the kind of person who'd rub something like that on your face. He liked how the colors would mix under Watanuki's artistic supervision. How the yellows and oranges turn to a perfect depiction of the radiating sun and all those greens and browns into lush fields.

But for as long as Doumeki had known Watanuki, he has never seen the latter finish any of his artworks. There was a troubled look on his face when he asked. "Ah. You noticed." He mumbled, his earlier spunk disappearing. Watanuki stared outside the window, probably reminiscing. "Father always tells me that when I paint, I should be able to put my soul in it, for it to be another extension of me, no matter if it depicts my most loved person in the world or just a simple mug." He chuckled, a fond smile on his lips. That was when Doumeki knew Watanuki was thinking of his late father.

Watanuki scratched his arm unconsciously, thinking of more words to say. "His paintings were the best. Mother and I would always get lost staring at one of his paintings. They were alive, you know. He puts his soul in his every painting and I wanted to do the same." His lips thinned out in a grimace. "That was before the accident."

Doumeki's eyes followed him as he sat down at the corner of his room. He looked as if he had been to one too many battles. Doumeki followed his urge to stay close to him and sat on next to Watanuki. The slighter boy chuckled softly before continuing. "Mother fell into coma and died after a week. Both of us were depressed. He wouldn't want to go out of his room, wouldn't want anyone to see what he was doing. I was suffering, I was sure he knew, but it must have been more difficult for him, to lose the person who means everything to you. I've never judged him. Even now." He said, looking at Doumeki, a wry smile on his face. "He refused medical aid, insisting he had suffered only a less severe trauma. He even refused to see me. He barely ate or do anything other than paint. The day he went out of his room was the day I saw his last painting. It was Mother, the most perfect painting I have ever seen."

Watanuki's knuckles were white but that wasn't the thing Doumeki was worried about. He was trembling, his shoulders were hunched more than usual, his posture tense, like he was going to bolt out any minute. He abruptly covered Watanuki's hand with his. The trembling stopped instantly. He shot the latter boy a glance and saw his eyes shut tight.

"Father died a few days after the painting."

Silently, Doumeki pulled Watanuki to him, resting his forehead on the latter's. Soon, teardrops fell both on their hands, cleansing Watanuki's mind and soul.

xxx

"Paint me."

The palette he was holding fell on the floor. There was a big blot of light yellow on the canvass. "W-what?! NO! Get out from here!"

"Paint me." Doumeki repeated, ready to dodge if Watanuki was inclined to throw his brushes and oil paints on him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"No." He was more surprised of the mumbled answer. "Lord knows you have my heart. I'm not ready to give you my soul yet."

Reverently, Doumeki cupped Watanuki's cheek and ran his thumb under his right eye. "Give me anything, I'll return everything."

xxx

_I'm pretty sure I wanted it to end this way but phew. This is the first story I've had in years and I hoped you liked it!_


	2. Chapter 2: Lover Watanuki

Title: **Alphabet Watanukis**

Type: **Lover Watanuki**

Characters: Watanuki Kimihiro and Doumeki Shizuka, mentions of Ichahara Yuuko, Mokona, Maru and Moro.

Summary: The day was just beginning but it seemed a lot different as to how Watanuki spends the beginning of his days a while back.

Watanuki didn't know when getting up early in the morning started getting difficult. A year ago, he would revel on the warmth of the sunlight, thanking everything and anything that he's alive and well. He would then greet his parents by sending them a quick prayer in front of their old photo. If anyone would tell him that this year he'd be sleeping in, he would probably grab his frying pan and whack them on the head. He opened his eyes to the blinding rays of morning sunlight and decided to close them again, groaning slightly.

No, he didn't want to get up just yet.

Maybe it was because the sky outside is so bright and blue. Before, he would sit on the windowsill with a mug of coffee on his right hand, his left trying in vain to block the rays of the sun. He would wonder if the sky has the same shade as his eyes, and he would keep wondering until his curiosity gets the better of him and he would skip down the windowsill, leaving his mug of coffee on the side and out of the way just to get to his bathroom mirror and check the shade of his eyes.

The birds were chirping their usual happy songs, the wind that blowing from the window was relaxing. Surely, one would find it unable to detach himself from the tranquility. Well, a while ago, he definitely loved to cook and listen to the chirping of birds while he did so. He pondered why he would spend his mornings now in bed, despite how cheerful the birds sing, seemingly trying to rouse him up.

Maybe it was because of the fact that he knew there won't be any duties to perform today. No annoying employer and its pet, the very frustrating and irritating employer and its pet. He didn't really mind the twins, Maru and Moro; he's actually very fond of them. He very much mind, however, how his employer would demand for more sake, more food, more everything. Also, it was really irritating how obnoxious that little manjuu was. How it would just polish everything he prepares even before he has set them…

No. It was a nice day. It still is a nice day. He shouldn't have thought of them while resting. What was he on about before those disturbing thoughts? Ah, yes. He didn't want to wake up yet.

Maybe it was because the other person who loves seeing him slave over everything was still fast asleep. Beside him.

Normally he didn't want that person to be a little too close. He easily gets annoyed at everything he does, at anything he says, at every quirk of that annoying little brow which makes way to that beady little eyes, handsome nose, soft lips and there he goes again. He probably shouldn't think of inappropriate things when the person he was thinking about is just beside him.

Watanuki opened his eyes once again and looked at the time on his desk clock. Seven was still early, especially for someone who had all the time in the world. If he would be visiting memory lane, seven am was like noon for him already. But due to the comfortable weather, the nice chirping of the birds and his present companion, getting up is pretty much difficult. Actually, he didn't want to wake up unless he absolutely needs to. Perhaps when the call of nature kicks in or his companion's obnoxious attitude pisses him off, really, just two of those things and he'll probably get up and finally start his day. Probably.

He succumbed to the soft sheets of his comforter and buried his head against his companion's chest. He smelled of incense with a whiff of something he couldn't explain, something… clean. You know that smell when you're in a forest with the river flowing or a neat, little park with a fountain located at the middle. It makes him feel refreshed every time he's had the chance to take it in. It made him smile.

Maybe it was hard to get up because he knew he was laying here with him, tucked safely and warmly in his arms. He didn't know when he started waking up with him and falling asleep to him. It didn't make any sense to him but they continued that ritual. He didn't want to admit it but he liked the way he slept peacefully beside him, his other arm resting under his head. He liked the way how he seemed so unguarded while he lay there with him. When the other man was awake, he'd keep up with his demanding requests, his guard up with his cold demeanor and uncaring attitude.

Maybe it was because of his habit of staring at him every morning. He liked watching him sleep. His narrow body was buried under the sheets, his hair having a mind of its own, sticking up in different directions. The part of him that fascinated him most was his face, and it was rare for him to observe that fully. His tanned face was the same as always, yet oddly different. As he slept soundly, his chest moving up and down with each every breath, striking gold eyes were hidden behind soft eyelids; red pouty lips parted slightly; tanned skin glowing serenely in the darkness. Eyes fixing on his face, he delicately brushed over his lips, only to withdraw like he had touched fire and gotten burnt. Whenever this happens, he'd look at his face cautiously, thinking maybe he had woken the other one up. Apparently, he's a heavy sleeper. Still, it's better to be cautious. He would never live this down if ever he gets caught.

One of the things he liked about him, which was very rare in his opinion, was his hair. He liked to play with his hair, to caress his face with the very tips of his fingers and to see him do that little quirk on his lips and he would grow just a bit warmer as he did so. This is the time when he realizes that he's awake and that he just decided to stay like this for just a while longer. He would sigh like he didn't want anything to do with this man. Whenever he realizes he's awake, he'd try to leave, rolling over his side of the bed just to get away from the other and start his day. Most of the time, he fails to get up and it wasn't because of the reasons he had mentioned in his thoughts earlier. The taller man would abandon his side of the bed and roll over to hug him instead - and he should begrudgingly admit that he liked it twice as much that he felt like not leaving bed the whole day. A few months before, when he had had a few drinks, he had unwittingly spilled that he liked being hugged by the other man. The morning after, the annoying man latched on to him like a koala. A tall koala. The "koala" also really liked reminding him of that night. He hated him when he does that.

He didn't exactly know when getting up early in the morning started getting this difficult. It had always been a hard task to withdraw his arms from his waist, feel his scent move inches away from him, to move his head away from that delectable chest and to sit up and do what he has to do.

Because he was with him.

And because all was right in the world. In his world.

With another sigh but a smile playing at the corner of his lips, he ignored the clock on his table, the sun shining brightly outside, the blue sky tempting him to know if it has the shade as his, the chirping of the birds. Nothing is more tempting than the other man beside him, insufferable or not, irritating or not. He may feel this strongly about him but he still hesitates doing anything that would show his feelings for him. But he would always know. Under the blanket, his hand closed over his and held him closer to him, his arm tightening around his small frame, allowing the warmth to slowly transpire from the tip of his fingers to his pale, icy skin. He was a man of few words but there are actions which spoke louder than words. This. The way he held him like he didn't want to let go. He would always be amazed how he would always be certain of his feelings for him when he, on the other hand, would always be reluctant to start anything. With every touch, there would always be a message taller man didn't need to say. These are one of those times.

There was a message unspoken lingering between them, a message he didn't want to acknowledge at first, and as he held his hand, he listened in very, very closely. He didn't want to miss this moment.

… _I'll be the one beside you—the only one_.

So he doesn't get up at all - he simply lies there, with him - not until he demands breakfast, something obnoxious that he has to yell and shout and grumble about and he had to get up to go to the market just to cater to anything he wants. He always cooks anything he wants. He always does anything he wants. After all, this is Doumeki Shizuka he is talking about.


End file.
